


Valentine's Hangover

by zorotokon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/F, Graphic depictions of vomit, Hangover, shower scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorotokon/pseuds/zorotokon
Summary: Canidae enjoyed drinking, this much was true. She also enjoyed fine clothes, fine food, and helping the unfortunate. Of course, only one of these hobbies led her to wake up in unfamiliar places with a mouth like sandpaper, and a head like a big brass band falling down the stairs.





	Valentine's Hangover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lovelymayor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelymayor/gifts).



Aurelia Canidae liked her drink. She had since she was a little girl and her father’s friend Lucius had snuck her sips of his sherry in the far gone evenings when he would spend his time telling jokes and reading the paper in the smoking room. Nowadays, it was a common enough sight to find the former mayoral candidate slumped over a hotel bar, snoring gently as a spilled cocktail dripped onto her skirt.

This in mind, it wasn’t the least bit surprising to the wolf when she began the day with a pounding headache like the tread of an approaching army in lockstep.

She grabbed a pillow to shade her eyes, turning the harsh pink to black, then a churning swirl of colors as she pushed the plush into her face. She let it up just a little to breath, and embraced the blissfully painless dark of sleep.

She had no way of telling how long she had dozed before she woke again. It could have been hours, or it could have been seconds. The pillow had fallen from her face, and she could hear muffled music, almost drowned out by the spray of a shower. Canidae’s eyes opened on their own, her lids coming apart with a crustiness that would have made a less experienced drinker gag.

She wasn’t in her own room; everything from the different wallpaper to the lack of the pillars draped with velvet at the corners of her bed tipped her off. Her eyes blurred out again and Canidae groaned. She was in a hotel room. She’d woken up in too many goddamn hotel rooms with a hangover to count. Last night’s drinking must have been especially heavy, she couldn’t even remember checking in.

The wolf snagged the corners of her eyes with the claws and cleaned out the gunk. A huge window dominated the room, reaching up almost five meters and covering the entire eastern wall. She glared at the damnable thing around her claws, silently cursing how it not only invited the morning sun in, but had it make itself comfortable.

Canidae was more than happy to look away and study the rest of the room. She was lying in a circular bed, like one she’d had as a child, that was covered with pink ruffles and sausage shaped pillows. There wasn’t else of much note, besides a small collection of luggage in the corner. She didn’t recognize it, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t bought it at some point in the night, and simply didn’t recall. She wrapped the blanket around herself and then threw it away, going from freezing to burning in the span of a moment.

Freed of covers, she found that she was still wearing her clothes from last night. It was some small relief, to know that she hadn’t thrown them off the balcony again, but it didn’t really make her feel better. She chewed her lips, which were simultaneously sticky and crusty from smudged lipstick and dried liquor, and inspected the front of her blouse, which was dappled with hard spots. She sighed and let her arms drop. This too was a familiar situation, and it meant that she’d ruined another top by spilling most of several expensive drinks on it.

‘On the bright side,’ thought Canidae, ‘this means I can waste another afternoon shopping for a replacement.’ She mentally singularized “replacements,” to continue denying the fact that her last four shopping trips had been caused by spilled drinks.

Canidae rolled to the side of the bed to sit up, and a wave of nausea rose up to meet her. She leapt up,  and almost fell to her knees on legs like marmalade. She almost threw up, then took careful, quivering steps to one of the two doors in the room. Her luck was turning, as the first door she opened was to the bathroom.

It was filled with steam and the rush of a shower. She hesitated, but her throat was burning with bile and her choices were to march in, or throw up in the door way. She practically dived for the toilet.

Canidae leaned over the porcelain, grabbing the sides to steady herself as her head was almost thrown back from the force of her mouth spewing a thick wash of chunky, jet black slurry, that splattered and sent flecks into the air as it smashed into the bowl. She gulped for breath, and the smell and burning taste of vomit made her retch again, throwing up only a small dribble of stomach acid and saliva. She wretched twice more before she slumped against the sink, panting and shivering.

Canidae let her eyes close, basking in the hot steam of the bathroom, and the post throw-up afterglow. She tried to relax against the sink, but it was slightly too short, even for her, and her neck bent awkwardly forward. Her eyes slowly slid open again, unfocused in the white softness of the bathroom. Something else felt wrong, and not just how it felt like her head was in a blender. The music had stopped, well the singing at least.

Canidae’s gaze slowly moved upwards until it met the one of a golden figure peeking around the shower curtain. And like an angel sent to her in this, her greatest time of need, there, looking at her with softness, her dazzling eyes undulled by neither the morning nor the hang over, was Gazelle. She gave Canidae a small smile and asked, “Feeling any better?”

Canidae fainted.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.


End file.
